Voices
by The Dark Moor
Summary: He stared in the mirror uncomprehending of the dirty wreck that stared back, eyes blank and empty. His clothes were torn his face streaked with dirt and tears. And it was all too much. WARNING: CHARACTER DEATH AND THOUGHTS/PLANS OF SUICIDE.


A/N: This fic is AU as far as I know, I kindof lost interest in the show a bit and haven't seen past 8.02.  
>Again I will warn you - <strong>CHARACTER DEATH. CONTAINS THOUGHTSPLANS OF SUICIDE AND ONE MORE GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION OF VIOLENCE. PLEASE DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THIS OFFENDS YOU**

Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS. I am not making any money off this fic. All rights go to whoever it is that does own NCIS.

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><p>The door swung open, leaving a gaping black hole into the void of his apartment. Tony walked through and shut the door behind him. Dropping his bag in the hallway he walked through to the living room not bothering to turn on the light switch. The darkness was safe. You could hide in the darkness. No-one could see you, no-one would know to look.<p>

Sensing the wall in front of him he turned into his bedroom. Moonlight trickled softly in through the window highlighting the few pictures on his dressing table with an eerie light. Kate, Paula, Jeanne, Jenny, Ziva, a group shot with the rest of the team. Gone, all gone.

Shod feet padded over to the window and a warm cheek pressed against the cold glass. A single salty tear slid out of the corner of his eye and dripped off the end of his nose. He felt like he couldn't breathe. There was a lump in his throat, nothing would come out. No! _DiNozzo's don't cry. Crying is for babies and weak people. DiNozzo's are not weak._ He could hear his fathers voice berating him as the thick leather belt sliced against his bare back.

Stumbling he pulled away from the window and into the kitchen. He reached up to the top cupboard and fumbled around for the bottle of Tequila he kept up there. Withdrawing his hand he remembered removing it and giving it to a friend. He never drank anything other than beer when he was depressed now with Abby's voice shrilling in his ear about how alcohol was a depressant after a hard case one night had staying him away from using the bottle to forget.

Abby. The pain stabbed through his heart like a shard of glass, twisting and snapping into thousands of little slivers pumping through his body with the flow of blood. It was too much, he needed to forget. Needed to forget them all. Needed to feel nothing. Another tear slipped down his cheek, his body betraying him as the pain began to overwhelm him. He was completely alone.

Barely making it back to the bedroom he collapsed on the bed and reached into his drawer. Trembling hands found the cold metal of the backup weapon he kept in his apartment. Slowly he pulled it out and stared at it. Absently he wondered if this was how Gibbs felt when he lost Shannon and Kelly. Oh God. Gibbs, no. No, no. _Breathe. _An inner voice made itself known. _In, out, deep breaths. Come on that's it._ Slowly he calmed his heart rate again and fell back on the bed. His eyes slid shut only to fly open moments later. They were there. In his dreams they were waiting for him.

Kate with the hole in her head, blood dripping down her perfect skin, marring the always flawless face.

Paula, blackened and dismembered from the bomb. Once pale skin now charred, her mouth open and face twisted in a grotesque mask.

Jeanne, the pain in her eyes drowning him as she pulled away in horror and betrayal.

Jenny, her pale blue sweater stained crimson red, blood running down her body and creating a pool at her feet.

Ziva, Gibbs, Abby, McGee, all there. Their charred flesh hanging off gleaming white bone.

All of them screaming at him. A never ending chorus of the same questions over and over. _'Why, Tony. Why did you let us die? Why? Why? Why?' _A never ending crescendo, growing louder and louder till he could take no more.

"Shut up. Shut up, shut up all of you!" Swiftly he pulled the gun up to his head then just as quickly threw it away. He would not go out like that. He refused to go out like that.

Pulling himself to his feet, Tony ran for the hallway grabbing his keys from where they lay forgotten on the table.

Tony DiNozzo would go out in a seeming accident. They would never know. His father would never know. The roads were slippery that was all. Mind made up, his feet carried him swiftly out of the apartment and down to the garage. Yes that was it, an accident nothing more. Finally they would be quiet. Finally the voices would leave him alone.


End file.
